


we'll still have each other

by thewolvescalledmehome



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Jonsa Summer Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:59:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11479107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: After four years spent as a hotshot firefighter in the west, Jon returns to the Starks after a tragic incident. Six months later, Sansa comes home for the first time since Jon came back. The week she comes back just happens to be the week of both their birthdays.(I'm sorry this is a really shitty summary but it's 1:48AM and this is the third one I've typed.)For Day 3 of the Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge: Gifts or Fixations (Gifts)





	we'll still have each other

**Author's Note:**

> The sections in italics are flashbacks.

Sansa rolled her eyes at the text Robb send her, reminding her of Jon’s upcoming birthday, as if she didn’t know. As if they hadn’t spent a decade and a half’s worth of birthdays having combined parties, as hers was just days after his. He was probably remembering all those years Sansa threw a fit about those parties, thinking she’d have to have hers at an arcade or a laser tag arena, when in reality very year Jon gave her everything she asked for in a party, and only asked that he could blow out some candles on the cake. Even so, the younger, immature her wanted her own parties, where her friends didn’t side eye the pale boy who never smiled, where she didn’t spend half the party shushing her friends’ rude comments. She remembered yelling at her parents, _why doesn’t he have parties with his own family like a normal person? Why has he got to celebrate with us?_ She was grounded for that one, and it wasn’t until years later that she was grown up enough to understand why her parents always threw Jon’s birthday parties, but by the time she would have been all right sharing a party with him, they had both gotten too old for parties.

They continued celebrating at home, though half the time Sansa was gone for his birthday, off on a girls’ trip or shopping at the mall. She just signed the card her parents presented her with and considered her duty done.

That was all before, though, and this was his first birthday he’d be celebrating with them after nearly four nears. Things were different now, for both of them, which was why Sansa started planning his birthday present the day after Arya called to tell her Jon was coming home.

_It’d been a long day and she’d gone to bed early. She’d been woken up only a few hours later to her ringtone for Arya._

_“Jon’s coming home,” Arya said when she answered._

_“That’s great,” Sansa yawned._

_“No, no, you don’t understand. He’s moving back home.”_

_“Arya, I don’t understand why you’ve called me at midnight to tell me this.”_

_“He’s hurt, Sansa. That’s why he’s coming home.”_

Jon had moved out west almost four years before, when she was still in high school. He went to be a hotshot firefighter—the ones who were sent out into the mountains and forests when wildfires broke out. Whenever a fire was bad enough that it made national news he would always send word that he was fine, his team was fine, until he didn’t. Arya had called every one she could until she got ahold of someone who told her what happened. The team he was with was on the edge of the fire, and when the winds changed it came roaring back towards them. Of the team of twenty hotshots, a quarter of them died in the fire. Three more died in the hospital. The other twelve had various injuries. Jon had been one of the twelve, most of his injuries consisting of smoke inhalation, bruised ribs, and some mild burns. The worst of it all was the PTSD he suffered from after losing nearly half a team he’d spent the last four years with. Arya and Robb flew out to bring him home.

She hadn’t spoken to him in more than four years. The most contact she’d had was the obligatory _happy birthday_ she sent when Facebook prompted her to. When he was flown back, Sansa took her allowed unexcused absences to make for a long weekend, but when Jon slept for almost the whole of the time she was home, she returned to school. That had been the last time she’d been home, as she’d taken summer courses and lived in her apartment. Now she was coming home for fall break, the week they got off at the end of October that just happened to overlap with both Jon’s birthday and hers.

When he left, she was still in high school, and now she was close to graduating from college. When he left, she’d still been dating her high school sweetheart, the one who didn’t break her heart but certainly broke other parts of her and turned her world upside down. She wasn’t sure how much information had made it’s way to Jon, if he would see her as the broken girl she’d been or as the stupid young girl she was before he left. She doubted he’d see her as the woman she was now, no matter how obviously different she was.

* * *

 

“Anything special you want to do for your birthday this year?” Catelyn asked not twenty minutes after Sansa was home the following weekend.

“No, just cake here at home.”

“Are you sure? You’ll be twenty-three.”

“It’s not as if that’s a milestone birthday, Mum.”

“No, no, I suppose you’re right.”

“What’re we doing for Jon’s birthday?” Sansa’s voice dropped, hoping it wouldn’t carry to other corners of the house. They were sat in the kitchen, with the other Starks all in the living room. Sansa wasn’t sure where Jon was. She hadn’t seen him in the twenty minutes she’d been home, though Arya said he’d been spending most of his time in his room. She thought he’d at least come down to welcome her home, though she probably had done the same for him at some point.

“He said he didn’t want to celebrate it at all. We’ve gotten him something though, of course.”

“We’re not going to do anything for his birthday?”

“He’s asked us not to.”

“ _You_ ask us not to every year, and yet we always do.”

“And every year I wish you wouldn’t.” Sansa scoffed, knowing her Catelyn always secretly loved it. And while Jon may not be in the same situation, he still deserved something for his birthday, especially after all those years of putting up with her parties and having nothing for himself.

“Dinner will be ready soon, why don’t you go see if he wants to come down and eat?”

Sansa hesitated outside Jon’s room. She’d never been in it while it was his room. Before him, it’d been a guest room and Sansa used to play hide and seek with Arya in it. All that stopped when Robb met Jon.

With any of her siblings she would have barged right in without knocking, but he wasn’t one of her siblings, and they’d never treated each other as such. She rapped her knuckles lightly against the door.

“It’s open.”

Jon was sat in the window chair, reading a book. He didn’t look much different than the last time Sansa had seen him. His hair a little longer, beard a little thicker, a little more muscular, but otherwise the same, aside from his eyes. They looked the same as when he first met Robb, guarded and haunted as hell. That look had slowly melted away the more time he spent with the family, but now that look was back.

The room hadn’t changed much from when Sansa remembered it being the guest room, aside from the bedspread and the bookshelf being full of books rather than pictures and knickknacks. She knew Catelyn and Ned had offered to redecorate it more than once, but Jon always insisted he liked it just fine. Sansa had always wondered if that was true—she still thought it looked more like a hotel room than anything else—but she wasn’t going to question Jon on his choices of décor.

“Sansa. I didn’t know you’d be back.” He stood quickly, as if he was going to hug her, but they both knew he wouldn’t. They’d embraced once outside of childhood—right before he left to go west.

“I’m on fall break. I’ll be home until next week. So I’ll be here for both of our birthdays. Which, Mum said you didn’t want to do anything for your birthday. Were you just being polite, or…?”

“I really don’t want to do anything for it.” Sansa leaned against his doorframe, studying him.

“I wasn’t thinking anything big. But not even a little cake with the rest of the family?” The lines of his face softened slightly, making him look a little more like the man she knew four years ago.

“I suppose cake would be all right. What grand plan do you have for your birthday? Going to the city for a day of shopping?” That had been how she’d been spending her birthdays in high school, but she hadn’t done anything that elaborate for her birthday in years.

“No, just a quiet one at home, I think.” He looked vaguely surprised but didn’t comment. “Dinner’s ready, by the way.”

“I figured you were sent to tell me.” _Because you’d never seek me out otherwise_ went unsaid.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was quiet, despite everyone being home. Arya had mentioned that the house had been quiet since Jon came back, but Sansa thought this was too quiet—it was eerie. Even Arya and Rickon were well behaved and kept their voices low.

After dinner, Jon retreated back to his room. Sansa saw everyone’s eyes track his movement going up the stairs, the same worry crease on all of their faces.

“How’s he doing? Really?” Sansa leaned toward Arya, knowing she’d give the most honest answer. She probably knew the best too. While Jon had become an honorary Stark because of Robb, he was closest to Arya.

“Physically? He’s fine. He won’t talk to anyone though, even a therapist. Not about anything, even stupid things. He won’t start a conversation. He’ll answer if you ask him something, but not much beyond that.” _Must’ve been so shocked to see me in his doorway that he spoke then._

“What’s the doctor said to do about that?” Arya shrugged helplessly.

“Talk to him. Let him know he’s not alone. Be as supportive as possible.” Sansa nodded. That was familiar advice to everyone in the family. They’d all heard it before when she was being treated.

“How’s that working when he spends all his time in his room?” Arya sighed.

“Robb and I try to spend as much time as we can with him after work, but he’s here alone all day until the boys get home after school. I can’t imagine that’s good for him.”

“No, it’s not.” Sansa knew that she wouldn’t have been able to handle that much time alone well so soon after a traumatic event, which was why Catelyn took a sabbatical and stayed home with her. She wondered why she hadn’t done the same for Jon, but knew pointing that out would stir up old arguments between her parents.

“Well, I’ll be home for the week. I’ll see if I can get him out of his room for a bit.” Sansa ignored the look of surprise Arya gave her. Before, she would have never volunteered to help or spend time with Jon, but she’d changed. They had much more in common now.

 

* * *

 

Sansa was crossing the hall between her room and the bathroom on her way to bed when she noticed Jon’s light was still on. For the second time both in her life and that day, she knocked on his door.

“I’m fine, Arya,” he called.

“It’s not Arya. It’s Sansa.” She thought he’d just repeat what he’d said, dismissing her, so she was surprised when the door opened a few seconds later. “Can I come in?” Jon backed away, allowing her entrance. The door latching behind her was the loudest sound in the room. Jon retreated to the chair she’d found him in earlier, book on the windowsill. She came around the foot of the bed to perch on the side nearest him.

“I thought you’d come by at some point. To talk about it.” Sansa abandoned the position she’d just taken to scoot farther back, drawing her legs up to her chest and resting her chin there.

“We don’t have to talk about it. Not yet. Not ever, if you don’t want to.” She’d actually prefer it that way. They could forget about that particular incident from four years ago for all she cared. His face relaxed at that. “I actually came by to see what you wanted for dinner on your birthday, and what type of cake you wanted.” Jon shrugged, the same as he had every time he was asked that question through their childhood.

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

“Jon, I’ve known you long enough to know that you don’t like lemon cake. You’ve never had a cake you like on your birthday as long as I’ve known you.” It was enough to color him a slight pink. “C’mon, what flavor did you have the last four years?” He looked lost in thought for a moment before something that could maybe considered something that resembled a smile.

“Chocolate,” he relented. Sansa offered a soft smile in return for his answer.

“All right, easy part done. Now, for dinner.”

“Sansa, really, cake’s enough.” Sansa fought her eye roll.

“Please, Jon. Let me do this for you, after all the birthdays you gave me.” Jon sighed and she knew she won.

 

* * *

 

Sansa woke up in her childhood bed to the sounds of everyone heading out to work: the shower running, the boys chatting, Ned and Catelyn trying to get everyone out of the house on time, the garage door opening and closing. She intended to go back to sleep for a while yet, but she heard the door across from hers squeak open once everyone had left the house. She gave him a few minutes to himself before getting up as well.

Downstairs, she found him staring at the coffee maker, lost in thought. She didn’t want to startle him, so she went to the bathroom, hoping the door and flushing would alert him that he wasn’t alone.

“Sansa. I’d forgotten you’d be home.”

“Hope I won’t be too disrupting, being home this week.”

“Can’t be. It’s _your_ home.” Sansa’s heart ached. Of all the Starks, with the exception of maybe Catelyn, she’d been the one to make a show when she was younger of Jon _staying in the guest room_. She hadn’t thought of it has _his_ room until she was older.

“It’ll always be yours too,” she muttered, moving past him for the fridge. He didn’t respond, so she changed topics. “I was going to go shopping later, for your dinner tomorrow, if you want to come?”

“I’m sorry, Sansa, but… I can’t. There’s just…”

“Too much, I know. It’s all right.”

They made their breakfasts in the quiet, moving around as if the other wasn’t actually there.

Jon had always been quiet, only really coming out of his shell for Arya and Robb, and his hotshots team. She and him never had that easy banter he developed with her other siblings. Before now, they never had much in common, despite the fact that they were both quiet and bookish in nature. Jon preferred histories though, and biographies whereas Sansa devoured romance and fantasy novels. Their friend groups never overlapped, they had no interest in the same movies or TV shows or music. The only things they had to talk about were things that both of them preferred not to discuss. Spending the week alone together would certainly be interesting at the very least.

 

* * *

 

“Do you spend all your time in here? Even when nobody’s home?” Sansa asked some time later, peeking her head around the door that was just beyond ajar. Jon was back in his chair, hair still damp from his shower.

“Downstairs is too open,” he explained quietly.

“Ah.”

Sansa was well acquainted with feeling safer in smaller, more confided spaces. She still preferred them if she was alone. Big spaces only felt safe with people in them. She wondered if Jon knew how similar they were—what happened to them was different, but they appeared to be dealing with it the same way. Four years ago, Sansa also internalized everything, refusing to talk, spending time alone in small, dark spaces. It was the stubbornness of Arya that finally forced her to go to therapy, talk to people, join the land of the living. She was sure Arya was doing the same for Jon, except Arya couldn’t take time off work the same way she could just skip fourth period to check on her sister. Which left her, to be for Jon what Arya had been for her, even for just a week.

“Do you mind if I read in here then? I don’t like being alone in the house.” That wasn’t quite true, Sansa could handle being alone now, but she didn’t want to leave Jon alone.

“I suppose so,” he shrugged. Sansa took that as an invitation, fetching the novel she’d been reading, and sat cross-legged at the foot on his bed, glancing at him once to see if he objected before letting herself sink into the romance.

 

* * *

 

It was hours later when the other Stark siblings came home to find Jon in his chair and Sansa curled on his bed, enthralled in her book. Arya came in looking for them, so Sansa took that as her cue to go shopping.

Catelyn was impressed that she’d gone shopping and offered to do the cooking and the baking for Jon’s birthday. Sansa couldn’t explain why she was doing all of it. Catelyn wouldn’t understand how bad she felt about all those years of birthdays where she dictated everything. She knew no one blamed her for it. They always asked Jon, and Jon always said he was all right with whatever Sansa wanted. But Jon would never want to cause trouble, especially when they were younger and he thought everyone would like him if he did what everyone else wanted. He never asked for anything, never tattled when one of the Starks did something, never caused a fuss. Sansa thought it was fine time she started making up for it all.

 

* * *

 

“Have I left my book in here?” Jon’s door was open a crack, which was different than had it been last night. He was reading in his bed this time, which was also different. He pointed to the nightstand. “Thanks.” She hesitated in the doorway after taking it, not sure how to ask herself in.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Sansa. I can be left alone.” Sansa used that as an excuse, situating herself on the edge near his feet.

“I said the same thing.” It was the first reference she made to the part of her life that he missed. Jon suddenly looked appalled with himself, as if he’d forgotten or didn’t make the connections.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa. I… I didn’t think…”

“I didn’t say it to guilt trip you. I said it because it’s true. I may not know exactly what you’re going through, but I’ve gone through things too, and I know how hard it is. And while you might want to be alone all the time, being alone isn’t what’s good for you.” The look hadn’t completely disappeared from his face, even when Sansa’s hand came to rest on his ankle through the blankets.

“I should’ve come back, when everything was happening with you. Should’ve come back to kill that bastard, after what he did to you. I was terrified though. I thought that I was to blame.” They were broaching a myriad of the topics that they had in common, but didn’t want to talk about. After yesterday, Sansa thought she’d deterred him from bringing up what happened right before he left, and yet here he was, just skimming it.

“Of course it wasn’t your fault, Jon.” She almost said _it probably would’ve happened anyway,_ but she doubted he’d find that reassuring. “I don’t blame you. Not for what happened and not for staying away.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“You can make it up to me by letting me read in here with you.” He looked like he wanted to say no, but Sansa knew he wouldn’t, not after he revealed that he thought everything that had happened to her was his fault.

“All right.” He passed her a pillow and she settled on the other end of the bed, so they were head to foot.

 

* * *

 

Sansa spent the following morning much the same, reading in Jon’s room with him. If her insistent company bothered him, he didn’t complain, though he wasn’t one to. She kept asking him if he minded her invading his space, and he always told her he didn’t, but he also always told her he was all right with lemon cake, so she took that with a grain of salt.

 

* * *

 

“Well, Sansa, doesn’t this look lovely!” Catelyn exclaimed when she saw the dinner table, set out with Jon’s favorite foods. “And you’ve baked a cake as well?” Sansa nodded, though she was irritated at the comments. This evening was meant to be about Jon, not about how well Sansa could function in the kitchen.

“Well, as long as Jon likes it,” she muttered to make her point. She saw Arya smirk, but Catelyn had turned and she couldn’t see her mother’s reaction.

Jon was pleasant throughout dinner, but Sansa thought the look of gratitude he showed when she brought out the cake, with the candles arranged into a 26 and _Happy Birthday Jon!_ scrawled in frosting was beyond worth the hours she spent cooking, baking, and shopping.

After the singing and cake, Ned, Robb, and Arya all brought out packages for Jon. Sansa’s was still upstairs. She wanted to give it to them when it was just the two of them. She signed the card from her parents though, to keep up pretenses. Jon was touched by each of their gifts and hugged them in turn. Sansa wanted to tell him, _I’ve got something for you upstairs. Things haven’t gone back to the way they were_ , but the hesitant one arm half hug didn’t allow for that.

“Two more days and its Sansa’s birthday!” Catelyn pointed out afterwards and Sansa wanted to sink into the floor. She prayed that Jon knew this was all Catelyn and not her at all. Catelyn didn’t seem to be aware how different her daughter was, even though she was there for every painful second of the transformation.

 

* * *

 

After everyone went to bed, Sansa slipped into Jon’s room, deciding after the last two days she didn’t need to knock. Jon didn’t look anywhere near as surprised as he had been the first time. Sansa folded herself on the end of his bed unceremoniously.

“I’ve got something for you.” This time he did look surprised.

“Dinner was more than enough.”

“After all the birthday’s I’ve stolen from you?” she scoffed, producing the package from behind her back. “Plus, I’ve never gotten you a gift before.” Jon looked as though he wanted to protest, but she shoved the package at him before he could say another word.

Sansa had to bite her lip to control her excitement as Jon slowly removed the wrapping to reveal a leather book, with his named embossed on it.

“Sansa…”

“That’s not it. You have to open it.” He did, and she could almost see the way his breath caught.

It was a scrapbook, starting with pictures from when he first met Robb. She’d tasked Arya with digging up all the photos she could from their childhood and scanning them to her. She’d stalked his social media as well, pulling any photos she could, both from high school and the past four years. His hand gently skimmed one of the childhood pictures—one taken at a combined party, the two of them side by side and a cake ablaze in front of them.

“Thank you, Sansa. I… I can’t…” She turned slightly, giving him a moment to compose himself. “I have something for you as well.” He gingerly set the book on the nightstand before opening one of the drawers and pulling out a small bag.

“I’ll save it for my birthday.” The closest thing she’d seen to a smile yet graced his lips.

“I honestly don’t mind sharing my birthday with you. Plus, it’s after midnight. Technically, it’s not my birthday anymore.” Conceding, Sansa took the bag from him.

“Oh, Jon…” From within the bag was a corded necklace, a stone held in a small net as a pedant.

“It’s tiger’s eye. It’s supposed to give strength and battle fear. I saw it, after I got the call from Robb, after everything with… after everything happened. I thought of you. I’d meant to give it to you sooner, but then… staying away seemed like the smarter choice.”

“Thank you. Will you?” The necklace tied in a simple knot, and Sansa was sure she could tie it herself, but she wanted Jon to do it. She pulled her hair up and felt his fingers a breath away from her bare skin. He tied it without actually touching her, but even so it brought back the memories of the last time they’d been this close, four years ago.

It had been at his going away party. They’d both had a bit to drink, and she’d had a fight with the boy she’d been dating. Jon found her crying on the patio, nursing a drink.

_“Sansa? Are you all right?”_

_“Yes. No. I dunno.” He sat down next to her, closer than they had been since they were kids._

_“Come ‘ere.” He pulled her into a hug and she couldn’t help but tell him all the details of the fight, even though this was Jon and not Robb, and Jon wouldn’t care. Jon didn’t care. Jon was leaving in a few days. Except Jon did care, he listened and hugged her and held her as she cried._

_Jon spent a fair amount of time with her on the patio, missing his own party to comfort her. He not only comforted her, but stayed long enough to cheer her up too._

_“Too bad you’re leaving,” she muttered, once he’d said he should get back inside. “You have good shoulders to cry on,” Sansa joked. He offered her a sad smile, as though he’d had the same thought. She opened her mouth to say something else, something about how she wished they were friends, when he leaned in, his lips just a whisper away from her own._

_“I can’t. I have a boyfriend, remember?” She pulled away._

_“Right. Sorry.” His face had gone red, and she thought he looked a lot like the boy he’d been and not the man he was. “See you, Sansa.” He left her alone then, now faced with a different set of problems._

Neither of them had known that her boyfriend had been watching through the window.

“I never should’ve tried to kiss you that night, Sansa,” he murmured, apparently remembering the same night. She twisted to face him, pressing the pendent to her chest.

“Why did you?”

“I thought you might’ve finally seen how much of a bastard your boyfriend was, and if you hadn’t, I was leaving, so we wouldn’t have to bear the awkwardness.” Sansa nodded, considering the reasons he gave.

“And now?” The unguarded, confused look he gave almost made her lean forward and kiss him herself. “I know you’re still healing from what happened with your team, but I’ve been though that too. So you don’t have that as an excuse.” He stared at her, and before Jon could cite any other reason as to why this wasn’t the time, was she sure, or anything else he would ask, she pulled his face to his.

And she kissed him.


End file.
